


In the Den of Pigs

by d__T



Series: Going Straight to Hell on Transcon 1 [4]
Category: Mad Max 1979, Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Blood, Blowjobs, M/M, POV First Person, literally murderporn, spoilers: the unnamed original male character dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 06:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4866572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d__T/pseuds/d__T
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Y'gotta kill a Bronze to join Toecutter’s gang. This is Diabando’s kill. He’s 22 or 23 in this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Den of Pigs

“Kill a Bronze.” That’s what he said. Shouldn't be that difficult, just gotta get my hands on a Bronze.

Time to get shitfaced with my _mortal enemies._  That’s a good plan, what could go wrong? I already feel naked without the knife typically sheathed at my knee and this shirt just feels _wrong_.

Off kilter, I pull the door to the bar open and _yeah_ , I know how to work this. The chatter and buzz is comforting like a warm blanket on a cool evening. There’s a crowd of ‘em over in the far corner, got their own table and everything. Perhaps a little older than my usual target, but hey! Alcohol works on everybody.

Can’t hit ‘em up first, that would be suspicious. I grab a drink at the bar like a regular joe, sip it a little and make like I’m enjoying the song-and-dance up on the stage. Any other night... But I’m getting comfortable here, absorbing the atmosphere like I _belong_ here.

About half a beer in, I _do_  belong here and moving like I’m considerably more sloshed than I am, I wander over to the Bronze table like I’m intent on stealing one of the girls they've accumulated. One of them looks a bit more than tipsy and the girl on his lap looks a bit more than done with him so with a wink to her, I take her place. We’re both bleach blonds, he’ll never know the difference.

Turns out he _does_  know the difference and mumbles something about “where’d that girl go” and “not interested in guys” and several of the other Bronze are laughing at the unfortunate one I’m sitting on. Time to switch tactics since about half of them _think_ they've figured out why I’m here.

“Hey, fellas! Any’ya _interested_?” I accentuate the offer by giving the guy I’m all over a lil wiggle since the girl _had_ gotten him started and I might as well confuse him while I’m here. But one of the guys down the table gives me a wink so I slink off in his direction.

He pulls me in like he knows exactly what he wants already. Hand starts on my waist and slides right down to my ass with a little squeeze, so I just move it along and snuggle right onto his lap, arms looped around his shoulders and face against his neck. He seems to like that a quite a bit so I nuzzle right up in there and give him a couple kisses along his jaw just teasin'. He laughs a little and I take this moment to take a proper look along the table. All the other Bronze seem unconcerned by my antics, except for one at the far end who's all shaggy hair and suspicious looks. Well, fuck him, he ain't getting me in his lap like that!

I mouth "fuck you" all the way down the table at him and he sorta flinches like I wasn't supposed to see him staring. Hmm, if any of them are gonna give me a problem, it's gonna be him.

Surprisingly, the guy I'm sitting on collects some initiative and pulls me into a kiss. Someone nearby hoots at us, so I make it a show. That, apparently, is exactly the right thing to do 'cause I can feel some drunken interest stirring underneath me. A little wiggle so he knows I know, and I trail that kiss across his jaw and down his throat. When I put a little bit of teeth into it, he makes this little noise and shifts under me and that's when I know I've _got_ him. The smirk against his neck is just a feeling without meaning to him.

I let him finish his drink, all the while attended by little kisses and nibbles until I get a proper squirm outta him. Whisper in his ear a little nothing about how we could go out back and I could get on my knees and _blow_ him.

I can feel the response to that all through his body even before he kisses me again.

He pushes me up off his lap and then tows me sort of after him, sort of beside him, his hand on my ass real possessive. It's okay, feels real good so I push my ass against his hand, but not quite as good as having him _exactly_ where I want does. He tries to push me up against the wall when we get outside and I let him right up until he tries to push me down. Not yet, mate.

Rolling it over, I push him up against the wall, driving him against it with a kiss. I draw one hand down his body, a tease, a promise, and cup the bulge in his pants. I can work with that, but not the damn uniform leathers. Gonna have to get those off him.

He sinks a hand into my hair and yanks my head back, diving in to bite at my throat. Fuck you, man, I'm not letting you mark me up no matter how drunk I'm _supposed_ to be right now. I push him back and slide down, giving him as much contact as possible until my knees hit the dirt. His hands are already in my hair again and I look up as I mouth along the bulge. His eyes shut, face turned up and mouth open to the night sky.

What was that 'Cutter had said to me earlier? _Constant vigilance_ although that might have been his vulture of a right hand. It makes me chuckle against that smooth leather, this one had lost that game to assuming I was just like the other girls there: nameless and looking for a bit of a good time. This was gonna be _easy_.

He makes a little encouraging sound when I get his belt and fly undone, and a slightly alarmed sound when I yank his pants and underwear halfway down his thighs. He's looking at me now, questions in his eyes, so I mumble something about _full access_ into the cut of his hip and let him see my smile and my hand at my own crotch. He seems satisfied with that, or at least satisfied with my other hand on his dick and my tongue teasing near the dark curls at his root. Looking up again, his eyes are shut and mouth open and he definitely needs something between those lips but I can't reach his mouth from down here. Oh well.

His dick is kinda nice, and didn't taste as nasty as I'd expected from the leather they all wear when I take it in my mouth. I set him up with a good rhythm, lips and tongue and throat, which he promptly breaks by trying to thrust into my mouth. Officer, that's just _rude_ , I thought you knew better than that! A shoulder shoved between his legs, spreading them as far as the pants around his knees will allow solves that problem but he's looking down at me again. So I make some eye contact and purr around his dick and he almost keeps looking, but his hands clench in my hair and he looks away again. Good boy.

The folded knife in my pocket, specially sharpened for this occasion, digs into my leg as I shift position. Not yet, I tell it. Not yet, I tell myself. A little bit more for him before we move this along and just as I finish the thought, I feel the beginning of a shake in his leg. _Perfect_.

It's his undoing, in more than one way. I fish the knife out of my pocket one handed, trying to make it feel like I'm still touching myself if he's still paying attention to things like that. The click of it locking open is masked by a deliberately loud slurp. I give him a couple more just so he knows I'm gonna finish him off nice and messy.

And then I slide that body-hot steel blade through the inside of his thigh. Slick and sharp and going for the bone. Swiftly, I match his other leg and get on my feet. Press the blade to his throat and my bloody hand over his mouth to keep him quiet as his blood pools swiftly in the dirt, pouring forth too fast to soak in right. He struggles, tries to at least, but cutting the femoral and saphenous like that is like cutting the bottom off a cup full of water. As he starts to slide, too weak to even lean against the wall anymore, I push him down and let him fall.

He looks up at me, trying for accusation and almost getting betrayal before his eyes stop moving and his head tips sideways. I cop a squat, heedless of the blood around my boots and arrange his head against the wall so it'll stay upright on its own. Knife still warm in my hand, I dig the point into his forehead, carve the circle and line of the phi through his skin and rub it until a little blood runs forth.

My work here done, I skirt the outside of the building until I reach my bike. Hands wiped on already bloodsoaked pants, helmet on, I ride off into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Totally lifted the description of the vein cutting being like a cup of water with the bottom cut off from Snow Crash, quoted here for your pleasure.
> 
> Hiro goes back into the hops and finds T-Bone. T-Bone is dead, slumped in a kneeling position against a trellis. The stab wound through his bulletproof vest probably would have been fatal, but Raven wasn't satisfied with that. He went down low and slashed up and down the insides of T-Bone's thighs, which are now laid open all the way to the bone. In doing so, he put great lengthwise rents into both of T-Bone's femoral arteries, and his entire blood supply dropped out of him. Like slicing the bottom off a styrofoam cup.
> 
> I love Snow Crash. http://hell.pl/agnus/anglistyka/2211/Neal%20Stephenson%20-%20Snow%20Crash.pdf


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